


all's fair in love and plants and hoses

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Sam comes home to find Jack planting her a garden. After a few disparaging comments about her own gardening skills, a hose and water fight ensues.





	all's fair in love and plants and hoses

Sam killed the engine to her Indian and dismounted, swinging her denim-clad leg over the bike and dropping her helmet on the back of the bike. The day’s stress seemed to melt away at the sight of her motorcycle parked next to Jack’s big, green truck--side by side and  _right._

At the top of the drive, she saw trays and trays of plants--celosias and lamb’s ears and potato vines and oxalis. It was a beautiful mix of colors and textures and she knew she’d find Jack in the backyard, pulling up the yard, sweaty and covered in dirt.

She didn’t care if he was covered in green goo or Goa’uld guts, she just wanted to be near him; wanted him to chase away the last of her stress; wanted his clever fingers on her skin, kneading and pressing into tense muscles.

Throwing her bag by the back door, she crept around the side of the house and found him exactly where she thought he’d be: head buried in the freshly planted shrubs, up to his elbows in dirt, white tee soaked in sweat and fertilizer.

She leaned against the side of the house, hip checking the dripping hose. He must have watered the other side of the plant bed a few minutes before she’d shown up. 

“Hey, O’Neill!” she called out to him, fighting a grin. “Are you out here talking to my plants?”

His head popped up from beneath a dark purple potato vine, dark Bugaboos shielding his eyes from the sun, and a lazy smile on his face. He rocked back onto his heels and then stood, brushing the fertilizer from his hands and walking towards her. 

“I’m just letting them,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “know that they’re expected to live more than a few weeks.” He gave her a knowing look. 

Despite her good intentions and words of encouragement, for all that she was a brilliant astrophysicist and a stellar soldier, Samantha Carter had the blackest thumb of anyone he knew. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed indignantly, hands going to her hips. “My plants last longer than a few weeks...”

They both knew it was a lie. He nodded with mock-patience and raised his hands up in deference. “Yeah, sure, you betcha.” 

Narrowing her eyes, she caught sight of the dripping hose and Jack’s extraordinarily dirty white shirt and she had an idea--a wonderful, satisfying, stress-relieving idea.

Jack’s eyes widened and he looked from Sam’s line of sight to the hose and back to Sam. He lifted a finger in warning. “Sam--Sam, don’t you dare.”

She made a quick grab for the hose and held it up triumphantly between them, the nozzle pointing directly at Jack’s chest. 

“Take it back,” she commanded, a broad smile on her face. She loved these moments--these moments of domesticity, of playfulness, of normalcy. She was just a woman coming home from a long day and flirting with the man she loved, taunting and teasing him with the wet end of a hose. 

Jack widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, adopting his best commander position. “No,” he said clearly. “You’re a terrible gardner and your plants love me best anyway.”

“ _Our_  plants. And no they don’t!”

His lips twitched and she knew she had him, knew he was having just as much fun teasing her as she was. Her finger twitched on the nozzle’s trigger and sent a warning spray at him, the half-powered jet of water just splashing his shoes. 

“Carter...” he said warningly, taking a few steps towards her. “Hand me the hose.”

She bit her lip and, with the expert marksmanship that the United States Air Force and her own father had instilled in her, she took aim at his open, outreached hand and nailed the center of his palm with a sharp, strong jet of water. 

He spluttered and looked up at her, mouth agape. “Hey!”

And then she let him have it. She pulled the trigger and showered him with cool water from the hose, dousing him in a few well-placed sweeps of the nozzle. He laughed and took off after her, chasing her as she backed up as long as the hose allowed, laughing and firing over her shoulder, catching him in the shoulder and stomach and hair. 

Finally, when he was completely soaked--the water cooling him down and soaking through his shirt, mixing with the dirt on his skin and forming a muddy paste over most of his body--he caught up to her, arms wrapping around her waist and their momentum carrying them down, collapsing onto the grass.

He pressed his body to hers, wriggling a little more than necessary to rub some of the mud onto Sam. After a brief struggle, he wrestled the hose free from her and he tossed it to the side of their entangled bodies. Still atop her, he cupped her face and smeared streaks of mud over her pale, flushed skin. 

“That’s an act of war, Sam,” he growled, ducking his head and brushing his lips against hers once, twice, three times. She sighed and widened her legs, letting him rest in the cradle of her thighs, her knees brushing his hip. Their mouths pressed together easily and familiarly, his tongue finding the spot on the roof of her mouth that made her gasp and jerk her hips upwards. Her fingers buried themselves in his wet hair and they ignored the taste of dirt on their lips.

Jack groaned and pressed his growing erection into the damp, warmth between her legs and she gasped, ripping her mouth from his and panting, looking up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. 

“Jack,” she admonished, her voice teasing and light. “Not in front of the plants.”

He laughed and dropped his forehead to hers, pressing a soothing, cooling kiss to her lips--chaste and sweet--before rolling off of her. Sam sighed and looked down the front of her shirt and jeans which were now covered in water and dirt and mud. 

The yard was a mess, their impromptu hose fight causing tiny rivers and lakes to form. Jack was a mess, half-hard and panting, completely soaked and covered in dirt and looking dark and tan from a day’s hard work in the sun. 

And despite her own state, with a yard full of plants that Jack bought with her in mind and Jack’s hand finding hers in the wet grass, Sam couldn’t remember feeling stressed at all.


End file.
